


fatigue was like oxygen

by minarchy



Category: Captain America (2011), Captain America (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minarchy/pseuds/minarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Steve never became Captain America and instead joined the Medical Corps and went to war after all.</p><p>(an alternative ending to <a href="http://pennyworthing.tumblr.com/post/16627589522/if-i-said-dirty-hipsters-youd-probably-punch-me-d">the plot</a> where they don't die and get to go home \o/)</p>
            </blockquote>





	fatigue was like oxygen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Renne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/gifts).



There is light, and that is Steve's whole world for a full minute; a vicious burn against his retinas and a thrum, a buzz in his pallet and the roots of his teeth that vibrates painfully up the base of his skull.

He is slamming back into reality with a muffled ringing in his ears like he is underwater. There is warm flesh under his cold fingers, and he shakes ash and dirt and snow from his eyes as he tries to find and clamp the torn artery, blood spurt a violent splash of red across his face.

His mouth tastes like burnt coffee. His nose is broken.

Away, there is yelling of orders and screams of pain as the tank pushes forward, belching stars into the camp that burn through canvas and metal and flesh alike. Steve looks down at his hands and sees that he is missing his fingers. Steve looks down at the body below him and sees the colour fade from Bucky's face as he fits and greys with the blood pouring out of his ruined arm.

This is not right, Steve knows. This comes later. He opens his eyes, and stares at the soot-stained bricks above him, grouting dark with mould. The thin yellow light from the streetlamps catches in the film of moisture that permenantly lives in places like these.

Bucky is a long, solid line of warmth at his side, the pit of his ruined shoulder pressed against Steve's, ribs lined up and hips lined up and Bucky's left leg hooked beneath Steve's right, intimacy and strategy rolled into one. The air tastes of oily water and cigarette smoke that plumes where Bucky blows it upwards, the long line of his neck pale in Steve's peripheral vision.

He lines up their breathing and nudges Bucky's ankle with his own, watches the corner of Bucky's mouth curl upwards around the cigarette.

"Punk," he says.

"Jerk," Steve says. "Did you sleep yet?"

Bucky shrugs. Steve steals the cigarette from between his fingers.

"Get some sleep, _Captain_ ," he says, rolling his shoulders up the wall. "Doctor's orders."

"Bed rest and plenty of fluids," Bucky drawls. "You sure know how to show a guy a good time, doc. Don't suppose I can at least expect a pretty nurse to plump my pillows?"

"Sorry, no can do," Steve says. "I could try and manage a sponge bath for you, so long as you ask real nicely."

Bucky hums, low in his chest as he drops his chin onto his collarbone and wraps his arm around his torso, shifting his weight lower against the wall. "I'm holding you to that," he says.

Steve's nightmares are not as bad as Bucky's. He hums a few bars of _Stormy Weather_ , all he knows; it was Ma Barnes' favourite song. He trails it on repeat as he sends thin trails of smoke out into the sky and keeps his breathing even. The night fades slowly, and Bucky doesn't dream.


End file.
